Written By: J. Nana Adwoa Banuaku
Mothers – what would we do without them? This is the question that immediately popped into my head when I was approached by the editor, and asked to write something on “love and relationships” in honor of Mother’s Day this month. Now, I’m no medical expert on the issue of motherhood, nor am I a psychologist but I do know a thing or two about motherhood because I’m a mother myself. I believe that qualifies me, in some way, as an expert in my own right. For, until one has wiped runny noses and changed leaky diapers, or stayed up late into the night panicking over why your baby just won’t stop crying, or felt the fright of a sick child and known the joys of hearing those wonderful coos; then, and only then can you understand the bond between mother and child.
I am a mother to three wonderful girls and my experiences with each of them have been as different as night is from day. But, my wishes, dreams and desires for each of them are one and the same. I want them to grow up to be responsible and productive citizens, to love the Lord with all their hearts and to be successful, professional women who follow their passions in life without listening to those who tell them anything’s impossible.
From the moment a child is born in many African societies, women play a vital role in the emotional, spiritual, and social development of that child. I learned this first-hand when I travelled to my home country, Ghana, after my oldest daughter, Jasmine, was born. I say women because in most African cultures a child is not just born to its mother. A child is born into a community - an extended family, and it becomes the responsibility of the women in that family to help raise that child. A child is freely disciplined by any elderly person in the community, both men and women. One does not just stand by idly and watch a child misbehave because that child does not belong to them. I once stood by helplessly and watched my aunt (my father’s elder sister) swat Jasmine on her wrist for picking something off the ground and attempting to put it in her mouth. I was horrified because she was only a year-old and barely standing up on her own. It was a light tap on her wrist but it horrified me nonetheless. I have been accused several times by my husband of having bought into the false Americanized notion that hitting a child does not equate to discipline. He does not hesitate to quote the bible on that either.
Anyway, as much as I wanted to voice out my disapproval, I was also fearful that doing so would invite a swatting of my own (one is never too grown to get a beating in Ghana). But that is not the point. The point here is that women in African society are all regarded as mothers, whether they have children of their own or not. And many times, before a woman has a child of her own, she has already had the experience of being a mother to someone else’s child. I never had to worry about who was going to change Jasmine’s diapers, what she was going to eat, who would bathe her, or where she was at any given time of day. Of course, that was not until after another episode that left me running around town in a panicked fright over whether I would ever see my baby again.
It was a hot afternoon after lunch. I had decided to lie down for a nap (something I hardly got to do in the US). Jasmine was with me at the time I fell asleep. I woke up an hour later to find the compound deserted, and Jasmine was nowhere to be found. I ran around from house to house asking if anyone had seen my baby. I had just woken up and my hair was a mess but I didn’t care. I was looking like a crazy person. As it turned out, my mother and her sisters had decided to walk over to see another aunt who lived within walking distance. They left my young cousin, Ewurama, to watch over her while they were gone. Jasmine had started whining shortly after they left, and my thirteen year-old cousin decided to get the baby away from me so I could get a peaceful sleep. So, she put the baby on her back and went off to see some friends and to run a few errands. When they got back to the house where I was crying at this point, Jasmine was fast asleep and looking so peaceful. For a moment, I had forgotten my Ghanaian roots and the way things work back home. I felt a slight sense of guilt and shame as everyone stood looking at me. “What did you think was going to happen to her?” My mother asked. “Girl, have you forgotten you are in Ghana and not America? Please, you should have left your fears at the JFK airport or whatever airport it is that you last saw before you landed here on Kotoka soil.” We all burst out laughing as the tensions eased and I thanked Ewurama for allowing me some sleep. It was the best three weeks of my life as a mother.
The support and love was overwhelming. I had struggled through the year after I had Jasmine. With no support, and no family it was a trying year for me and my husband as we struggled to single-handedly and, with no experience whatsoever, raise a baby on our own. There were times when I questioned my maternal instincts and convinced myself I was a terrible mother. It was, therefore, very relieving to be home surrounded by so many willing participants in raising my baby. I never wondered who was going to watch her while I went to do my hair or while I went shopping. If she whined, someone was always there watching over her.
It is that support system that is missing in America and the western world. It is very disheartening to learn and experience the things mothers go through in the developed world. Until you’ve had the luxury of being surrounded by such love and support in the African community, you won’t understand just what it is I’m talking about. To my African mothers – my African women – you are a ray of hope where there seems to be no hope. May you never lose your sense of community and identity. May you never lose your sense of belonging and warmth, of love and caring. For, no matter where you are, no matter whether you have children or not, God has given African women something so rare and so unique – a loving, nurturing and caring spirit. Let not travel nor your acquired foreign thinking ever steer you away from that!
